


Lullaby

by Cumbersmaugs_mindpalace



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drug Abuse, Finding Him Again, First Time, M/M, Suicidal Mentions, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal actions, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 08:08:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cumbersmaugs_mindpalace/pseuds/Cumbersmaugs_mindpalace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson is an aspiring young doctor who just recently signed a contract with the army. Sherlock Holmes is a University junkie with suicidal wishes and an overbearing brother. One attempt at ending his life brings Sherlock to St. Barts, where a young trainee watches over him. John and Sherlock remember each other from school. </p><p>John knows it isn't appropriate to like a patient, but there is no changing the past and Sherlock will only cooperate with John as his doctor. What happens when Mycroft finds out and Victor becomes jealous?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cheating Death

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first fanfic on this site! I hope that y'all will understand and enjoy this fic :)  
> I have been thinking (maybe dreading) about a suicidal Sherlock Holmes since that first episode when his drug abuse was first mentioned. Well, here is the product of my over active imagination.

Sherlock knew from the moment he stepped on the university campus that something was wrong. He was sixteen, attending a college full of older kids. Of course something was bound to go wrong. It wasn't like the tall, lanky teen could slip undetected through the buildings and into his dorm room. He intimidated those around him with his sharp eyes and stunningly right deductions, and that must have scared the hell out of the other teens. Mummy had always told him his gift of observation could also be seen as a curse when it came to the eyes of the other children, but never had he felt so insulted then by the older teens that crowded him in the hallways. 

So, instead of running back home to the empty mansion that had once housed his parents and two older brothers, but now only housed a hostile older brother and memories best left buried, the teen turned to the nearest comfort, cocaine. He felt a sort of bliss when that needle would be inserted in the veins and the drug would fill his system. His mind shut down and, for once, Sherlock had friends. Granted, they were not the best of influence, nor the best of friends, but they were friends none-the-less. Sherlock cherished those moments that the other kids weren't making fun of his 'freakish' ability to read what they'd been up to. 

Still, Sherlock found himself alone in the big world that had seemed so fascinating to him as a child. People rarely talked to him outside of the drugs. Some gave him mistrustful glares and avoided him entirely when caught walking next to him on the side walk. The teen was a walking freak show to the others. He might as well have tattooed 'avoid at all cost' to his forehead with the amount of kids that did just that. It was the worst feeling in the world, that feeling of emptiness, loneliness that not even the drugs could fill. He found himself looking at the razor he kept nearby, resting on the sink in his dorm bathroom. In time, that razor would mean much more the a passing fancy. He felt alive when the blood flowed down his arms. Sherlock felt the faint stirrings of something returning to the emotionless being he had become in the short months he'd been at Uni. 

He was thankful then for the silk, long-sleeved T-shirts he wore when not alone in his room, because the thought of the others finding out about his shameful habit was too much. They'd never cease in their insults if they'd found out about what 'Freak' did in his room when he was feeling upset. 

Today was another one of those tedious, boring days that seemed to occupy every day at Uni for the teenager. He had only one class today, a Bio-chemistry class that proved to be less then useless in its knowledge but somehow kept Sherlock entertained enough to keep going. He'd been promised a lab today, with chemicals that could be explosive and prove vital to some research he was doing. 

"Hey, Holmes!" Sherlock ducked his head and increased his pace across the grounds, hoping to avoid the twenty-one year old student running up behind him. "Hey, I was talking to you." Victor Trevor breathed down Sherlock's ear, making the boy flinch and shiver. The brown-haired boy just grinned in response and grabbed his arse, making Sherlock yelp in shock. "How about we go back to my dorm room. Got a fresh batch of the good stuff." 

"Fuck off Victor!" Sherlock growled out, jerking out of the older boy's hold and racing down the campus, only stopping when he reached the steps to the chemistry labs. Victor had a funny way of letting his customers pay for the drugs he supplied. Never once did Sherlock want to take this payment type, because, really, why would he? Victor took pleasure, never gave, and the act itself was repulsive. But that didn't stop the older boy from taking what he wanted from Sherlock, on multiple occasions. 

Sherlock shook his head and headed inside, glaring at the floor and refusing to look at his teacher for the duration of his lecture. 

\--@--

John Watson had always fancied himself a popular bloke. There was never a shortage of friends around him, even when some were fickle. He couldn't say that he had any real friends, well, aside from Bill Murray and Mike Stamford. But even they were not close to him in terms of being friends. John wasn't any good at keeping friends due to his more recluse nature. Not to mention the fact that he was heading to the army put a lot of people off from getting to know him. 

This was something the nineteen year old felt like he had to do. He craved the danger like blood in his veins and he looked forward to the time he would spend helping soldiers and civilians alike. It was his father's career, his end, and might possibly be John's career one day. He couldn't see a life outside the danger zones that the army presented. He really had no reason to return to London anyway, since his sister drank herself to oblivion and his mother had committed suicide shortly after he turned eighteen. John didn't have a girlfriend, and really, his two friends would take no time at all to move on if he was shot anyway. 

Paperwork was a long and tedious process that took most of John's time to complete in the afternoons. His residency was to last only a few years, but the number of patients he sees increases the better work he does. On top of that, he is forced to fill out paper work for each individual. 

Not for the first time, the young medical student found his mind wandering towards his last year in secondary school. It was a year worth remembering in John's opinion. One person in particular made it all worth it. A tall, curly haired boy with pale skin and lanky limbs that had a smile that could kill. He wore ridiculous suits and that black coat that somehow made him look taller. His name sometimes slips from John's mind, elusive like it's owner at times. But today, well, today he could remember him clearly. If John was being honest with himself, all his failed relationships after that mysterious boy failed because John Watson was never going to get over him. 

John finds himself wondering where Sherlock disappeared after they had graduated and why his phone had gone out of service. He spent the best nights of his life with the taller boy, and it hurts to think they'll likely never meet again. Sherlock, with all his talents in reading people, his social ineptness and brilliant brain. John sighed as he lost himself in memories from so long ago. 

"Watson! Possible OD patient on level five, room three. They put you on rotation. We already took some samples, but he needs to be watched over." DJ Davis stuck his head into John's little office and smiled at him. "Also, the person who brought him in thinks he tried to commit suicide. Beth is in there at the moment." DJ was a kind man, with light brown hair and a freckled complexion. He was handsome in an awkward sort of way, all limbs with hardly any bone. John nodded to him with a small smile and stretched before heading to the fifth level to check on the alleged suicidal patient.

\--@--

Sherlock slammed the door to his dorm room as he stepped in, a slow smile spreading on his face. The hit that Walter had given him was working it's charm, but it wouldn't be long before Victor was sniffing around his door. Today had proven terrible, worse then his usual days. For one, he was cornered in the science lab after his experiment by an eager Victor Trevor and barely escaped with his pants up. If the professor hadn't walked back it, Sherlock imagines he might have ended up with Victor's member in another place besides his mouth. 

The tall boy spit in the bathroom sink, trying to rid himself of the foul taste of Victor. It didn't work as well as the addict wished it would. He eyed his razor, sitting on the edge with dried blood still flaking around the edges. He could end it all right now. Victor would never get the satisfaction in raping him, the other kids would finally get their wish and Mycroft would quit his unnecessary worrying of his younger brother. The only two people in the world that would really miss him would be Sherrinford and John, if the boy still remembered who Sherlock was. 

John...the golden-haired boy from seventh year. John Watson, the only boy in the world to think Sherlock's deductions were amazing, not freakish. When Sherlock found himself sleeping at night, he found himself dreaming of the golden-haired, ocean-eyed rugby player that introduced himself after a particularly bad run-in with the local bullies. John had charmed his way into Sherlock's cold heart and never relinquished it back. It physically hurt to move away from the boy. Sherlock missed him, missed those nights spent talking and those days spent together when they were allowed to be themselves. John kept Sherlock alive, made him happy. But John had been lost when Mycroft cut off all forms of communication with the only person Sherlock found a reason to live for. 

Feeling resolute in his decision, Sherlock rolled the sleeves of his dark blue shirt up and revealed the pales scars of past self-harm and the needle marks of his recent drug abuse. He laughed with dry humour as he thought about how everybody would really be better off without a freak like them and slashed deep into his left wrist. He felt the burn that the cut induced and closed his eyes to picture his John, walking next to him and laughing, grabbing his hand to intertwine their fingers together. That twinkling smile and his trust in Sherlock as they laid in bed together, kissing, but never going further. 

The second wrist suffered the same cut and Sherlock felt himself start to collapse. His brain was swimming with warmth and happiness. Memories of how John looked in the sun floating to him as his blood stained the tiled floors. Distantly he could hear someone pounding on his door, and then a voice breathing in his ear. His name came like a mantra off of Victor's lips as he was carried away, head lolling back and forth with the movement. He finally felt himself slip into unconsciousness and prayed he would never wake up from it.

\--@--

The fifth level of St. Barts Hospital was used as the 'crazy' ward, where patients would go if they displayed suicidal thoughts or tendencies. John rubbed his eyes tiredly as he thought of the patient he would have to see in room three. It was not uncommon for the hospital staff to give the residency students these kinds of cases, as they are usually patients close to their age that end up on this level. The thoughts of these patients hit a little too close to home after dealing with Sherlock back in secondary school. The papers he was handed as he stepped to the receptionist desk listed the patients name as William Scott, seventeen. The man who brought him here was a business student at one of the better colleges, the ones John couldn't afford. 

The medical student walked wearily to the room and gasped in surprise. A man with black, spiky hair was sitting next to the bed, giving a critical once over to the body laying there. But it was not the bandages on the wrists or even the man that gave John pause. He faintly heard his clipboard slip from his grasp and clatter to the floor nosily, which made the man look up to glare at him. John's eyes stayed firmly on the face that he knew so well. That face that he dreamed about at night and once believed he'd never see again. Blue/grey eyes opened to meet John's own and the young doctor felt his eyes well up with tears. 

"John?" The voice was quiet, but hopeful. He seemed scared to look away from the doctor, who resembled his John so much. Pain ripped through his chest as he thought about John once more. Then the golden angel spoke and tears dripped down Sherlock's face. 

"Sherlock!"


	2. Uneasy Reunion

John felt like his whole world was turning on a dime. His illusion of a normal life was shattered and the shards were putting themselves together to push his focus on the boy lying in the hospital bed. The boy that John loved, who was studying a bandaged wrist with shame and regret. The boy that had disappeared off the face of the planet during the summer before Uni, right after telling John that he'd moved mountains for him. But no part of the trainee could feel angry at Sherlock, just disappointed the boy fell so far. He paid no attention to the man sitting by Sherlock's side, whose teeth were bared in a snarl as John reached out to stroke Sherlock's bruised cheek. 

"Jesus 'Lock. What happened to you?" Sherlock pushed into the touch and looked down again, wanting nothing more then to reach out and return the touch but knowing it would not be good for the deep cuts that were tightly bandaged on his wrist. John smiled knowingly at him and grabbed one of his hands to interlock their fingers. Sherlock gazed up at John with a look that the doctor could not describe and suddenly they're the only two in the room. The beeping of the heart monitor is dropped into the background and even the presence of another human body is forgotten about as John looks over his long lost love. 

Someone nearby clears their throat earning a harsh glare from Sherlock. "Go away Victor. You've done your civil duty." His voice is deep and icy, like a cave hidden in the winter months. Victor looks wearily between the two teenagers as he stands. 

"You're my friend Sherly, I'll be back to visit. And once you're better, you might even get a special treat for not dying on me." The man winked and Sherlock snarled at him before he left the room, swinging his hips in unnecessary movements. 

"Who was that?" John asked once they were alone again, watching his fingers gently gliding over Sherlock's bandaged wrist. 

"That was my main tormentor who has been trying to get in my pants since last year. His favourite thing to do, however, is force me to give him blowjobs. Which is why I rarely go near him. Disgusting human being." Sherlock snarled, glaring at the door where Victor had stopped. 

"Calm down." John soothed, brushing black curls from Sherlock's pale face. 

Blue/grey eyes turned to ocean blue ones and Sherlock relaxed visibly. He looked miserable sitting in the hospital bed, but John chose not to comment as Sherlock's hand continued to grip onto his own. He heaved a sigh and looked away as his deep baritone rumbled out. "You have questions." 

John smiled at the familiar deduction process that Sherlock used and nodded his head. "Why would you do this to yourself?" 

"It was the only way to make Uni bearable...and the only way I could see you again. The drugs allowed me to hallucinate and pretend that you weren't God-knows-where probably moved on from me." Sherlock's lower lip trembled and he hid his face from the older teen. 

"'Lock, look at me." John commanded softly, smiling as Sherlock hesitantly moved his head to look at John. "I could never move on from you. I've missed you. I thought perhaps you had gotten over me of course. I'm plain, boring old John and you're magnificent Sherlock. But drugs 'Lock? There are better ways to spend your time then doing something so self-destructive." He kept his voice soft, but firm and ended his sentence with a kiss to the pale forehead. Sherlock looked up at him with something like hope in his brilliant eyes. 

"Sherlock, if I am going to even consider restarting our relationship with you, you need to get clean and stay clean. I don't want to have to worry about you doing something like this when I'm in class." 

"I understand...I'll have Myc send me to a rehab facility." Sherlock nuzzled into John's hand and smiled at him hesitantly. "Stay with me?" 

John chuckled and shook his head. "I have a shift to go through. I promise I'll come back though." Sherlock looked down and squeezed John's hand. 

"I understand. I love you." His eyes grew wide and he bit his lip as he stared back up at John. "Sorry, sorry. It's just...it feels like old times, you know?" 

"Shh, don't 'Lock. I understand. I love you too. I'll see you later yea?" John rubbed a thumb over his bruised cheekbone again and smiled tightly. 

"Watson, how is everything? You've been in here awhile." DJ stepped into the room without looking up from a clipboard he had clenched in both his hands. John chuckled and stood up, keeping a hold of Sherlock's hand before bending over to press a brief kiss to his forehead. 

"We'll talk later." John ruffled his curls and nodded at DJ as the other trainee moved closer. 

\--@--

Sherlock watched John go with a frown and instantly felt cold and lonely. It was like the young doctor had taken the sunshine out of his life as he walked away to tend to other patients. Instantly, the teen hated it. He hated that John was kept from him once again because of other people. He was also afraid. Afraid that his brother would find a way to break off the contact he had been granted with John by weird chance. 

The only people left in the world that could have warned the doctor's and nurses about Sherlock's difficulty being a patient were working the government, dancing across America or running rounds. John had likely forgotten how bad Sherlock was when he didn't want to be treated, since Sherlock had been so calm when John had walked in. That was mostly due to the painkillers they had decided was a good idea to give him. 

Sherlock glared at the doctor that had entered before John left and made sure to make it known that Sherlock did not like his presence at all. All he wanted was John, his John. He was uncomfortable with any other touch aside from Myc's and Fords. He growled as DJ picked up his thin arm to study the old scars that had mostly been hidden from John earlier. 

"Sorry man. But I need to change these bandages." DJ tried for a calm smile, even as he was met with a glare that could burn holes in the sun. 

"No. I want John." Sherlock almost snarled ripping his arm from the doctor's grip and hissing as the motion pulled at the skin. 

"He has other patients. I promise I won't hurt you." The doctor soothed, standing back as Sherlock kicked at his blanket in a childish fashion. He would not stand some other doctor taking care of him when he knew a more capable one was just around the corner. 

\--@--

John felt an ache in his chest as he moved off to check on his patient downstairs. Sherlock had always been a difficult patient, but John wanted to believe Sherlock would behave for once. Not that he had much in the past. Sherlock had no feelings for anybody he deemed unimportant. He'd always been like that, from what Ford had told him. 

"John, you need to go back to that addicts room. He's reduced five nurses to tears and almost forced three doctors to quick. Man does that kid have a silver tongue." DJ commented dryly as he exited the elevator. John turned from his position at the nurses station and sighed. 

"I should've warned you about that. Sherlock is a difficult patient." John's lips twitched with old memories. "Take over my patients for me? I have a feeling I'll be spending most of my time taking care of him. At least until his brother shows up." John clucked his tongue and nodded to the nurse that winked at him. He was oblivious to the flirtatious tones that many of the staff threw his way. DJ was the one to comment on it later, when John would run to the pub for a drink or two. It was also DJ that always questioned John as to why he never took the pretty nurses up on their offers. 

"Oh Sherlock..." John muttered as he walked back in, noting the gathering blood on the bandages and the pinched expression of pain on the younger boy's face. He moved as quietly as he could to pick up Sherlock's right arm and start unwrapping the bandages, focusing all his energy on the one task. Sherlock startled and growled at the doctor before realizing who was standing at his side. 

"John!" Sherlock cried, throwing both arms around the doctor and hugging him close. "I was afraid...afraid Myc would keep you from me again." Sherlock nuzzled John's stomach as the doctor rubbed the younger teen's back. 

"'Lock, lie back and let me change these bandages. You've let them reopen." John pushed on his friend's shoulder gently. "So it was your brother that cut off all communications for us? Why?" John worked melticiously, wincing as the deep gash was revealed. 

"Yea, I'm not sure why. He said it was to protect me...like you were gunna break my heart. I think it hurt worse that I couldn't explain the situation and thought I'd never see you again." Sherlock swallowed and looked away as John studied the wounds that came so close to killing him. Eighteen hours ago, the seventeen-year-old wouldn't have minded slipping into the black void, but now that John was back, he couldn't imagine why he'd been so stupid. 

"Sherlock, it's fine. I understand your brother was being overprotective. We'll get through this together okay? First, let's focus on getting you better." John smiled at him as he set about re-wrapping the gash. Sherlock watched his movements with his usual way of intense studying as John set to work again. 

"John, do you think we'll get the chance to really be together after all this?" Sherlock bit his lip and looked up at the doctor again. John linked their fingers together and nodded. 

"Your brother cannot keep you from me forever, and you're too stubborn to listen to him. Maybe Ford could help?" John sat on the edge of the bed as he spoke, being mindful not to actually sit on Sherlock. His eyes strayed to the picture their hands made and he smiled with genuine happiness at the sight. 

"What can Sherrinford help with that I couldn't Doctor Watson?" A snide, smug voice commented from the doorway. Sherlock blinked slow, owlish eyes over to his brother and then shot a look to John. 

"Good afternoon Mycroft."


	3. Problems and Solutions

The only thing that had changed about Mycroft Holmes was the fat gathered around the edges of his middle. He still acted like a pompous arse and leaned almost gracefully against the damn umbrella his father had given him when he graduated from college. His presence still put John on edge, like he was going to have to defend himself or the defenceless boy lying next to him at any given moment. 

"What have you done to yourself baby brother?" Mycroft addressed Sherlock, staring down at the boy with a blank expression. Sherlock glared back at him fiercely. His hand had tightened around John's. The older boy brushed a few stray curls back and felt Sherlock relax next to him. There was apprehension in his blue/grey eyes as he continued to glare in his older brother's direction. 

"What do you want Mycroft? I've got this well underhand. Sherlock is sorry for what he did, and he's no longer a child you can coddle and tell when to jump. In fact, it's your fault that he's in this bed." John commented off-handedly, rubbing circles into Sherlock's hand with his thumb. Sherlock made a humming noise of affirmation and curled closer towards John as Mycroft approached the bed. 

"You dare speak to me in such a way when you never understood the situation yourself?" The older Holmes replied, standing at the foot of the hospital bed. John glanced up at him coolly, still carding his hand through Sherlock's curls and rubbing soothing circle's in the younger boy's hand. "It was best he quit talking to you. You would eventually break his heart anyway. And caring is not an advantage Doctor Watson." His name was spoken with scorn, but neither teenager showed emotion other than anger and betrayal. 

"As if I could hurt your brother Mycroft. I always feared Sherlock would get bored of me, as I'm not nearly as extraordinary as him, but what you did is unacceptable. You hurt your brother more so by cutting off communications. I would never have let him progress this far, in fact, there's not one instance in which he was unhappy with me. You're talking from your past experiences with relationships, but our relationship was never a normal one." John's eyes never left Sherlock's face as he talked, though his words were clearly directed towards the older Holmes who seethed with anger. His thoughts boiled with hate, for a reason Mycroft could never quite grasp. He'd always hated John Watson, however. 

"You should quit being jealous brother dear." Sherlock spoke up, his voice rough from disuse and emotions. Mycroft blinked owlishly at his younger brother. A commotion down the hall kept the man from answering. Their older brother, Sherrinford Russet Holmes burst into the room, looking frantic and worse for wear. His sight immediately zeroed in on his youngest brother, noting the way he curled around the body that sat on the bed with him. His eyes traced the hands gently soothing the young boy up to the kind face of John Watson, someone Ford had grown to love as a brother in the short year he'd known him. Ford had disapproved with his younger brother's meddling in Sherlock's love life, especially as it was so obvious how much the two teenagers loved each other. 

But, despite being the oldest, Ford had no say when Myc had cut off all communication. And no matter how much Ford had tried, he couldn't help his baby brother with contacting his love after Mycroft's cruel meddling. So, to see the young man sitting next to his brother shortly after Sherlock had tried to end it all eased a knot that Ford had not been aware had formed in his heart. He smiled easily at the young doctor and regarded his other brother wearily. 

"How are you John? It's been forever!" Ford greeted, winking at Sherlock as he moved closer. John chuckled in reply and finally gave in as Sherlock nudged closer. The young doctor readjusted his position on the bed and pulled the teenager into his lap, letting Sherlock curl against him like a frightened child. 

"I've been better. Can't complain much now though. Calm down, love." The last part was whispered into the younger boy's ear as Sherlock shook with sobs. "Can't give him sleeping medication. I think today has been too stressful for him. He needs to rest." John glanced at the two brothers staring at Sherlock with concern. "The only way he's going to get better is if he feels like nobody is against him. He needs support now, not harsh, angry words. And definitely no pushing." Sherlock nuzzled into John's chest and fell into an uneasy sleep, comforted by the smell of John's skin and the feel of his arms wrapped around the boy's thin frame. 

Both of his older brothers nodded solemnly and left the room quietly, glaring at each other in the hallway. John relaxed as the two left, feeling his hands move automatically to comfort the boy in his arms. His life had turned upside down with the realization that this boy he'd so loved back in secondary school was back in his life. Now, it was as if nothing had really changed, except Sherlock wasn't in the hospital because a bully beat him up in John's place, but put there by his own hand. 

\--@--

Sherrinford Holmes had always been particularly protective of his youngest brother. Mycroft was only a couple years younger than himself, but Sherlock had the age gap of nine years between them. He was the baby of the family, the surprise to Mum and Dad when the other two were younger. Of course, it never reduced how much the family cared for the curly-haired genius running around the estate. 

As soon as they reached the lobby, Ford rounded on his brother, sticking a finger in his slightly pudgy chest. "Don't you dare try to separate those two again! That little, 'It will save him in the long run,' was bullshit! Look at where that has landed him. Sherlock needs John. He doesn't need you." Ford sneered, almost growling with the intensity of his words. Mycroft stepped back from his brother's crowding and stood to his full height. 

"You do not understand Ford, with your lack of relationships. John was just going to break his heart anyway. He'll be in a desert away from Sherlock, there's bound to be someone else to catch his eye." Myc stated calmly, despite the anger that raged across his eyes. It delved into a battle of wits as the brothers stared each other down. Words were pointless to exchange at the present, as each thought flashed in angry eyes and sneers. 

"Oh for fuck's sake." John growled as he exited Sherlock's room, glaring at the two brothers. The young trainee had left Sherlock sleeping peacefully, and fully intended to return after getting something to drink from the staff's lounge. Instead he had walked straight into world war three between the oldest Holmes in the lobby of the hospital. Patients of all sorts were staring at them, doe-eyed and apprehensive. John grabbed each brother by the ear and dragged them to one of the examination rooms, muttering under his breath about incompetent brothers and suicidal teenagers. 

"In." The command left no room for argument and the Holmes brothers looked at John with something close to fear as John shut the door behind them. His glare was fierce and his voice had turned cold, a contrast to the tone he'd used in Sherlock's room not five minutes ago. He almost looked comically small standing next to the taller men, but somehow he he seemed scarier. "I don't know what your problem is Mycroft. You risked your brothers happiness to keep him safe? More like to keep him under your thumb. Sherlock was the most important person in my life." John hissed, turning his icy blue eyes on the twenty-five-year-old. 

"You're an idiot Croft. Our brother was fine. It's essentially your fault that he's laying in that hospital bed right now. John, thank you for not holding this against him. I wish I could excuse Mycroft's behaviour, but it's not that easy." Ford turned his sunny smile on the teenager, ignoring his brother's sputtering. 

The younger Holmes turned to the blonde boy and studied him intensely. "Do you still love my brother?" John turned towards Mycroft and raised an eyebrow, considering what he had just told him. 

"Of course I still love Sherlock. He's the only person I've ever truly loved. I've missed him, no thanks to you." Blue eyes stared into cold grey ones, challenging the older man. "I would've died for him, I still would if the situation called for it." 

A voice calling out in the hall interrupted whatever Mycroft was going to reply with and John sighed as he realized that Sherlock had probably woken up. Someone stuck their head into the examination room with a sheepish grin. "John, your charge is at it again." DJ commented, casting a look towards the other two Holmes boys. "Why is he so calm around you?" 

"It's a long story DJ, I'll be right there." John waved to Ford and exchanged a cool look with Mycroft before hurrying out the door and down to Sherlock's room. The teenager himself was tossing about, disturbing the IV drip and reopening the cuts on his wrist. "Sherlock! Love, calm down!" John rushed to Sherlock's side, putting a hand on his shoulder and forcibly pushing the younger teen down. Sherlock snapped and growled at the offending hand before his mind recognized the doctor standing next to him. 

The younger teen gasped like a fish and whimpered as the pain in his wrist finally caught up with him. Blood had soaked the bandages again, and were leaking down onto the clean sheets. John shook his head and once again moved to change the bandages and perhaps push some stitches through the deep gashes. "You've got to quit doing this 'Lock. I'm right down the hall okay? I promise I'll stay close by while you're here, but I need sleep and food like a normal person." John's work was quick and efficient, and soon Sherlock felt his bleeding stop and the greyness at the edges of his vision disappeared. 

He attempted to form words, but his mouth flopped uselessly. Sherlock frowned up at John and indicated a drink with his hands before making a motion he hoped displayed please to the trainee. John nodded in understanding and held a glass out wordlessly to the teenager. "Thanks." Sherlock muttered, staring at John as he checked charts and moved around Sherlock in his doctor-mode. "John?" The doctor looked up at him and smiled slightly.

"Yes 'Lock?" John sat on the edge of the bed once again and fiddled with an extra bandage. The trainee peaked carefully up at the addicts face and bit his lip as Sherlock mentally battled with himself. 

"Lay with me? Please?" He wouldn't look John in the eyes as he shifted restlessly in his hospital bed. There was a sheepishness to his look that hadn't been there a year ago when they had shared a cot during a camping trip. 

The trainee's gaze turned to the open doorway, where DJ had stopped to speak privately to Beth. He shot John a smile when he caught him looking but John only bit his lip and glanced back to Sherlock. "You know it's against protocol. I can't." Sherlock mumbled something under his breath and frowned. 'I'm already in deep. Perhaps he'd sleep better...and I could get some sleep to.' John shook his head and smiled at Sherlock as he toed off his shoes and took off the doctor's coat he was required to wear. "Come here." The younger teen beamed up at John and rearranged his position until his was curled around John and listening to the young doctor's heartbeat. John's arm automatically curled around the younger boy's shoulders and his thumb circled soothingly on the cool skin that was exposed out of the hospital gown. 

DJ and Beth walked in with small smiles on their faces as Sherlock's breathing evened out and deepened, indicating he was deep in sleep. "You know how much trouble you could get in right?" Beth asked him as she replaced an IV drip. John gave her a dry look and kissed the younger boy's forehead as he stirred in his sleep. 

"I'm very much aware, but he wasn't going to sleep soundly any other way. Plus, my shift ended ten minutes ago." John whispered, watching the other two trainees. 

"You've got to tell me this story some time." DJ whispered excitedly. 

"Another time DJ." John yawns and snuggles closer to the teenager. "I'm too tired. Sherlock has worn me out today. Crazy bastard." His voice was nothing but fond and the two doctors smiled once more at him before quietly plunging the room into darkness and leaving their friend behind.


	4. From Dust and Revenge

"You can't ever get a word in edge wise can you?" Sherrinford chuckled, leaning against the observation cot. Mycroft glared at his older brother and sighed. "You know Myc, 'Lock is certainly better off with John looking out for him. I don't understand why you hate the boy so much." 

The other Holmes just stared out the door to Sherlock's room where the doctor from before was discussing something with a colleague. "He's going to break Sherlock's heart. A man like John has ample offers when it comes to romantic relationships. He'll get annoyed and maybe a bit angry at Sherlock's irrational behaviour Or maybe he'll just find someone better who doesn't constantly put themselves in danger." The government worker was calm in his explanation to his older brother. When John had left, his temper had left him altogether and now he felt drained and exhausted. 

Ford felt the need to hit his brother right in his smug face but refrained by tightening his hold on the plastic covered bed. "Have you not met John? He's the most loyal person I've ever met. Sherlock is so much happier around him. And what's to bet that John had not dated at all since you broke those two up? John really loves Sherlock. I see it every time I see those two together. I would venture to say that they were made for each other. John is patient, kind and understand, and Sherlock's a genius who suffers from social ineptness due to his advanced brain. Leave them be." Ford stormed out, heading towards Sherlock's room and leaving his other brother to silently contemplate the words exchanged in the small room. 

\--@--

Sherlock awoke to voice speaking quietly. The body next to him was warm, solid and comforting and, for a moment, Sherlock tried to delve back into his dreamland. But the sterile smell and the beeping of a heart monitor kept his mind from shutting down and he groaned as he opened his eyes. His wrist were throbbing and his veins felt strangely empty. Detoxing was beginning, it had been a few days since his last hit. A hand was trailing along his back in soothing motions and Sherlock felt his tense muscles relax again. 

"Morning 'Lock." A voice commented softly. Sherlock nuzzled John's chest affectionately and looked to where his older brother sat. He looked stressed, an expression Sherlock hadn't associated with Ford for years. "How are you feeling?" Sherlock stared at him and sighed. 

"I'm fine Ford. Been better of course. But...I think everything is going to be fine from now on." At this, Sherlock turned his head, though it gave him a major headache, and glanced up at John, who nodded confirmation and kissed Sherlock's forehead. "I don't feel incomplete any more. I even regret everything I've done for the last year." The two still stared at each other, and it was like Sherlock was speaking the words only to the trainee doctor who smiled warmly at him. 

DJ walked in shortly after, still chuckling at a young nurse. John looked at him curiously. "Nothing to worry about John. Here, let me change those for you kid." DJ muttered kindly, moving closer to the bed and picking up one of Sherlock's wrist. The genius's eyes snapped back to the doctor and he watched the careful movements quietly. When the bandages had been changed and his wounds given a good once-over, DJ waved slightly and left the room, disappearing down the hall to the nurses station. 

"Hey, you hungry Sher? You need to eat." John moved to sit up and sighed as Sherlock tried to trap him into laying down again. "No Sher, I have a shift to start and this would be very unprofessional. Get up. I'll get you some food and then I have to speak with DJ about something." Sherlock whimpered at the loss of body heat and immediately burrowed into the covers. "Speak with Ford while I'm gone. I'll be back, promise." 

Sherlock watched John leave the room with a small wave back and then turned his attention to his oldest brother. "Long time no see little brother." Ford chuckled, ruffling Sherlock's matted curls.

"You're telling me. You left me with 'Croft for a whole year. Where have you been?" Suddenly the seventeen-year-old felt younger, more vulnerable, just like the first time Sherrinford had left the family home. It's not that the youngest Holmes blamed his older brother. After all, their parents weren't the best and Ford was just trying to make a life for himself. But he'd been left with only Mycroft for company after school, and it was already bad enough when he went to school. 

"I finished college, got a degree. I'm living in London now. Pretty close to your campus apparently. I tried to find you, but Myc wouldn't tell me where you were and, of course, our parents are of no use." Ford waved his hand vaguely. "I'm still pretty pissed at Myc anyhow. I can't believe he did that to you and John."

"But I have John now..." Sherlock whispered, glancing at the door. Just outside, he could see John speaking with a pretty nurse, who laughed and flipped her hair around in a flirty way. The teenager locked his jaw as jealousy raged through him. John had already assured him they would get their second chance, so it was ridiculous to think he would run off and date someone else. But the way that nurse was flirting with his John...well, that was just unacceptable. 

Ford shook his head next to him. "You're not going to lose him Sherlock. Not unless you do something really stupid." 

"I'm already getting clean! What more can he ask for?" Sherlock asked, exasperated. 

Ford chuckles as John walks back in, the nurse trailing hopelessly after him. "What's so funny Ford?" John asks, winking at Sherlock as he picks up one of his arms. Sherlock winced as an IV drip is carefully taken out and his cuts unwrapped. "Healing nicely. You may be out of here by tomorrow. So long as you can promise me you won't reopen them."

"Now why would I do something so stupid John?" Sherlock asked dryly, watching with interest as they unhooked the other machines. 

"I dunno, why would you do something so stupid to land you in the hospital in the first place?" John raised an eyebrow. The younger teen muttered something and looked down, ashamed. "Sherlock, look at me." When grey met blue, John smiled at him and continued wrapping his wrist. "I don't blame you, but honestly, you can't keep doing this. And I'm not sure I completely understand why you did it either." 

The teenager looked up at John sadly and bit his lip. "They were so mean to me John. Always those nasty words, tripping in the hallways, acting like I was a walking disease. I didn't have any friends, and the pain from, well, this..." He indicated the pale scars covering his forearms, "helped me pretend that I wasn't alone. And then there was Victor and his friend that tried to rape me every time I was alone. I hated it there. The drugs helped me see you and I had friends when I was high, but it was never enough. When I tried to kill myself, it was because I'd gotten close to losing it altogether. Victor had cornered me in the science labs. A teacher interrupted him before he got further then sticking it in my mouth, but I was so afraid. I wanted my first time to be with someone I loved, and I realized you were the only person I'd ever loved, so I accepted the fate that I'd never be able to do that with you. But I didn't want to give Victor the satisfaction. And everything just became so hard." John frowned and ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair to soothe the teenager. How dare anyone ever touch his Sherlock. Victor sounded like a nasty piece of work. 

"John, you're suppose to be professional with all patients." The nurse, Mary, commented, watching John's hand with a veiled expression. Sherlock turned his brilliant eyes to focus on the nurse and sighed. He had noted that the nurse had left briefly, but it seemed she would not leave John that easily. 

"Sherlock." One word, barely spoken, but Sherlock sighed again and relaxed back into his hospital bed, keeping his mouth shut. It was a sign of how much John knew Sherlock to be able to tell when Sherlock was about to spew a whole paragraph's of deductions. It could also be noted that Sherlock listened to John because he knew John was a good judge of character and perhaps his deductions would land him further time in the hospital. "Sleep, you need it. Don't you go arguing either. You won't heal unless you take care of yourself. It might make that itching better too." John pointed out and Sherlock startled. His right hand was scratching insistently at his left elbow and the cravings were back. 

The younger teen nodded and watched John walk out of the room, leaving Ford sitting in his seat and quietly discussing something with the nurse. He looked back once more and gave Sherlock a small, reassuring smile before heading to the elevator. Sherlock followed his advice and dropped off to sleep with a smile gracing his face and his brother reading a rather complicated book out loud to him. 

\--@--

The only people in the break room downstairs were DJ and Beth. Mary had an emergency with a patient on level four and had parted ways with John with a flirty smile. The young trainee had waved and disappeared into the break room to grab a cup of coffee and maybe a bagel. But DJ stared at him with an eager smile on his face. John figured the sooner he told DJ about Sherlock, the sooner the other trainee would leave John in peace to continue taking care of his crazy patient. 

"So, what do you want to know?" John asked wearily. 

"How do you know the patient? Why are you so familiar with him?" DJ jumped right in, wagging his eyebrows in exaggerated motions. 

John sighed and collapsed in a chair, laughing slightly. "You wouldn't really believe me if I told you I'm sure." DJ raised an eyebrow in a 'try me' expression and sat down opposite. "We met our last year in secondary school. Sherlock had skipped a year or two ahead, bloody genius, but he was picked on a lot. Mark had called him a know-it-all. Anyway, I had run across him after a particularly bad run-in with some bullies. He looked so sad and lonely just laying there, and I always hated when people were treated like freaks just because they were different. Sherlock had deduced me in an effort to get me to leave, but, God, it was bloody brilliant! He knew everything about me in the space of five seconds. And, well, that's how our friendship started. He kept me amazed honestly. The best kind of friend, but, that wasn't all he was either. He was there for me, and maybe that's why my girlfriend at the time had broken up with me, was because I was always there for him. Sherlock had nothing but cruel treatment from the other kids, his parents were kinda absent, and his brother was overbearing. His other brother was hardly around because of school. We fell in love, dated for the rest of our last year and part way through the summer until his brother cut off all communications. He's my best friend, and the only person I've ever truly fallen in love with." John smiled at his hands as he finished his story, remembering the antics Sherlock always pulled him into in secondary school. 

"That's quite a story. Is that why you rarely take notice of the flirting from the nurses?" DJ asked him. John nodded his confirmation and looked up at the creaking of the door. Mycroft Holmes stood there, looking down at the three trainees impassively, but John could detect the slight hint of regret behind the mask that the older Holmes had placed over his emotions. It took no words to convey what he meant to the young trainee, but a simple nod from both to understand that Mycroft would back off on whatever relationship John and Sherlock decided to forge from this experience. The man was soon gone again, leaving a frowning DJ and a thoughtful Beth as well as a happier John Watson in his wake.


	5. And so it Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry that I took forever with this chapter! I've been having writers' block, and then I just recently started college (TARLETON STATE!) SO you can imagine. I don't think this is one of my greater chapters, but I tried. Again, sorry y'all had to wait so long and thank you for your lovely comments, it's helped get me thinking again.

John was only slightly surprised his superiors never said anything to him. They had to know he was sleeping next to one of his patients every night, that's what the cameras were for after all. Of course, none of the other staff noticed how different the young doctor acted around the young Holmes. The one that particularly got on Sherlock's nerves was a nurse that happened to be on the same floor every time John went to check on Sherlock (which was often.) With Sherlock's withdrawals and the increasing nightmares when John isn't there, it was hard to leave the younger boy's side. But he didn't deem it necessary for a nurse to trail after him either. Nevertheless, Mary continued to follow John like a lost puppy and Sherlock wanted nothing more then to be able to kiss John in front of the nurse just so she didn't get the idea that she had any chance. 

"John, it hurts." Sherlock whined as the doctor finally walked in. He was almost dead on his feet from three different surgeries and a three hour class would drain even the most steady of students. He was scratching at his elbows again, John noted, frowning. 

"What hurts Lockie?" John replied softly, running a hand through his fringe. 

"Everything." 

John sighed as he continued to run his fingers through greasy strands. "That's part of the withdrawal system love." John responded, smiling down at the pouting boy. 

"How much longer?" 

"It could be anywhere between tomorrow and a few months Lock. But, let me take some blood and maybe that will give us a clue." Sherlock nodded and regally offered his arm, letting his eyes drift shut as John worked in silence. 

"Oh, John! I wasn't aware you were back." Mary gasped from the doorway, flashing him a bright, full smile. Sherlock grimaced at the grating voice and glared at the nurse as she flounced to John's side. John raised a questioning eyebrow towards his coworker, even as he concentrated on the needle he was carefully pushing into Sherlock's scarred elbow. Mary giggled and moved closer, leaning dangerously close to John.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at Mary's 'subtlety' and watched John work with a neutral expression. John smiled at him uneasily and slid the needle out, tapping the vials and studying the blood for a few minutes. The younger teen watched him work with more interest, but his bright look vanished as Mary leaned in closer to whisper in John's ear. He sullenly glared at the nurse, once again wanting to reach out and grab /his/ John out of her grasp. And John was his, unless the older teen wanted otherwise. But Sherlock wasn't willing to let go of him so easily. He had so easily wanted to throw his life away because he didn't see a point without John by his side. 

Mary smiled easily once again and smirked at John, who just stared back and shrugged. "Hey, Lock, I'll be right back okay?" The young doctor commented, squeezing Sherlock's hand from where it shot out to clasp John's rough one. Sherlock just stared back at him, broken and scared, but not willing to show that in front of the nurse, who was watching him with contempt. "I'll hurry, promise." Sherlock nodded and let go, picking at the linens and counting the minutes. 

Mary followed John out the door, chatting away about nothing in particular as they headed towards the first floor labs. John's mind was entirely preoccupied with the boy lying int he hospital bed, so he didn't notice how close Mary had gotten until she grabbed for his hand. He pulled gently out her grasp and went on explaining some obscure experiment Sherlock had performed their last year in school, laughing as he remembered the younger boy's surprised face when the experiment had failed. 

"You talk about him a lot John. Is he like, a little brother or something?" Mary finally asked, looking faintly annoyed. She looked to John to find him amused, with his eyes fixed far off. 

"He's more then that. He's my best friend, and probably the only person to ever truly understand me. He's brilliant, mad, amazing and talented. I love him, and I finally have the chance to be around him once again." John whistled, politely asked the nurses in the lab to run the blood and hurried up the stairs and back to Sherlock, leaving Mary to stare at him as if he's grown another head. 

'Surely he can't mean /love/ him. He loves him like I love my best friend. There's no way he's gay.' And with that thought, Mary smiled again and went about her rounds with a light step, confident in her ability to win the aspiring young doctor over. 

\--@--

Sherlock brightened up as John walked back in his room, shutting the door behind him quietly and shedding his doctors coat. He moved over to the boy to run his hand through the fringe and smiled down at him. "You're withdrawals seemed to be lessening love." Sherlock beamed up at him and nuzzled his hand, silently requesting that John lay down with him. Bone tired and starting to feel the strain in his shoulders, John gratefully accepted the invitation and the two rearranged themselves until they were both comfortable, with Sherlock half draped across John. It was a secure feeling. 

"John." Sherlock nuzzled against the blonde's neck, trying to determine if the older boy was still awake. A faint hum escaped his lips so Sherlock took that as confirmation. "Can...can I move in with you? When I'm out of here?" The brunette hesitated slightly, hiding his face from the older boy, despite the almost pitch blackness of the room. John's hand, which had previously been circling Sherlock's back slowly, stopped and he pulled in a deep breath. "It's just...I don't feel safe at school." Sherlock mumbled quietly. 

The young trainee thought about it, about how his roommate would react to Sherlock moving in with them, or how the college would feel to find a boy from another college crashing with John every night. "We can get a new flat John. I have the money. Ford mentioned we could move in with him too. I want to be close to you, I don't want to lose you again." It was quiet again as John thought about it. "Please don't make me go back there." A whispered, broken sob which had John pulling Sherlock in tighter, kissing the teenagers temple and trying to quiet him down. 

"Of course we can get a flat together. I don't want you out of my sight either love. And I'd never make you go back, although you do need to attend class." John's hand petted the matted curls. Maybe it was that broken sob, or the way that Sherlock had stated his question that had broken John along with him, but it didn't matter to John. All that mattered was that the one person he loved was sobbing, broken and so utterly tired of living was lying in his arms and begging him to keep him alive. And John would kill every last person to cause the brilliant teenager pain if he knew he get away with it. "There are so many awful people in this world 'Lock. It takes strength to get through it, but I want to be here for you. Will you let me help you?" 

Sherlock nodded pitifully, raising his head to seek out John's lips with his own. The kiss was tentative, sweet in the most innocent ways. They moved together, flowing like they had never separated, parting for the other subconsciously. The kiss lasted for longer then either teen thought it would, and they both felt a bit better for it, a bit more whole. John smiled down at him gently, lovingly, and stroked his pale, fragile cheek gently. "How I've missed you." He sighed quietly, fingers tracing the sharp contours of his best friend's face. 

The younger teen flushed and buried his face back in John's neck, mumbling something like "stay," before drifting off to sleep. John smiled down at his love and agreed, arms circling the thin waist and head dropping to rest on top of Sherlock's as he fell into a deep sleep. 

\--@--

Mary had been around the hospital for a while now, working around several young aspiring doctors, but none had made her flush the way that one John Watson did. He was brilliant, kind and adorable with his fluffy jumpers. And the fact that he'd never slept with the other nurses was only a bonus. He obviously liked her too, with how often he talked to her. She couldn't wait to surprise him tomorrow morning by coming in early. She was finally going to ask him on a date, and hopefully score the young doctor as hers before the other nurses got any ideas. 

She glanced in the mirror with a sinful smile before dashing out the door on her way to work. She was working an earlier shift then usual, in order to spend more time with John. Though he was always in that one teenagers room. It was odd, but that patient seemed to need him twenty-four seven. She was determined to find a time alone with him if it killed them. 

When she arrived at work, she immediately set to finding the young doctor, only to realize he wasn't due to resident work until mid morning, and that he was currently sleeping off his exhausted work yesterday. Instead, she was giving the chart for the teenage patient and told to check his vitals while the young doctor was out. Mary sighed, but accepted the job, eyes scanning the chart for important changes. He was improving, which meant he would soon be leaving this hospital, leaving all John's attention to herself. That thought made her smile once again, and she sashayed her hips as she approached the little delinquents room. 

\--@-- 

"John." It was a breathy sigh, almost as if Sherlock hadn't woken at all, but John knew better. He smiled down at his love and curled closer, encasing the younger boy in two strong arms and peppering kisses across his forehead. He felt Sherlock smile beneath him and switched to running a hand through the ratty and greasy hair. 

"How are you feeling love?" John finally spoke, lifting Sherlock's head up so he could examine his pupils. They were brighter, laughing. His skin had lost that pale pallor. Sherlock rolled over to lay over John and smiled down at him cheekily. "Obviously much better." The young doctor drawled, placing his hands on bony hips to keep the teenager in place. His thumbs stroked slow circles idly as the other teen stared down at his doctor. 

Sherlock leaned down to lock his lips with John's once again, smiling at the older teen as they broke apart. "I'm going to move in with Ford for now. I don't think it's safe back at the dorms." John nodded with him and gave him a weak smile. "Will you come with me to pack up my stuff?" Sherlock asked shyly. He leaned down to nuzzle into John's neck, his favorite spot apparently, and awaited the answer with dread. He needed someone with him when he went back, he didn't trust Victor, but putting John in his pathway was a very dangerous thing to do. 

John just smiled gently and scratched Sherlock's back. "Of course I will. I can't have my favorite person getting hurt." Though it was a supposed to be a teasing statement, the words left both teenagers feeling somber. Sherlock curled up once again, off to the side to avoid hurting John, and sighed. "C'mere." John wrapped his arms around the thin waist again and hauled Sherlock to his side, kissing the corner of the boy's mouth and nuzzling his cheek affectionately.

One of John's hands wandered across Sherlock's forearms, absently tracing the thin, dark scars. They were not ugly by any means, but the vast majority of the London population would cringe at the sight of them anyhow. To John, they symbolized the fight that Sherlock continues to go through, but he no longer needs to do such foolish actions, because he has John, and John will always love him, no matter what. That thought relaxes Sherlock and he sleepily hums in contentment before placing a sloppy kiss on John's chin. The older teen laughed and turned his head to connect with those lovely cupid bow lips before abruptly pulling back. 

A gasp and the sound of the clipboard bouncing across the floor were the only sounds in the room as neither teen was willing to breath and Mary was too shocked to think. The teenagers sat in fear as she continued to stare at them before Sherlock grumpily buried his face in John's neck once again. Everything was about to be ruined, and it was his fault. It was always his fault. "I'm sorry John."

"Don't do that. It's not your fault 'Lock. We knew there was a risk. I don't care. So long as you are mine, I absolutely do not care what happens." John whispered back fiercely, gently sitting up and hugging Sherlock to him once again. "I love you and nothing is going to change that." 

Mary continued to stare on in silence, trying to wrap her head around the idea that John could possibly be gay, and in a relationship with a suicidal patient. "What is going on?" She finally demanded, stepping further in the room and shutting the door behind her. She crossed her arms and glared at the two boys, standing over them to try to intimidate them. Sherlock adopted a bored look and flopped back in the small bed, keeping a hold of John's hand in order to ground himself.

The room was dead silent as John tried to figure out what to say. How would he explain this complicated situation? It was hard enough trying to believe with his own eyes that Sherlock was right here, and even weirder to imagine that they could be together. How do you explain this to someone who doesn't know him?

"Start from the beginning John. All of it, we have all day after all." Mary stated quietly, sitting in the chair previously occupied by the oldest Holmes brother.

"Well..."


End file.
